Wicked Hearts
by vorvol
Summary: The Inquisitor is a qunari and a mage, and Sera has no idea how to feel about that. She's nothing like the thief imagined, for better or for worse. Fascination can quickly snowball into admiration and infatuation, as they'll find out soon enough.
1. No Time Like The Summer

Nobody likes a good old fashioned Fereldan summer. Sera definitely doesn't, at least. Snotty guards are even more irritable than usual, staking out a good spot to set up an ambush is a living nightmare, and she can't even begin to imagine what it feels like under those heavy armors.

It's a good thing she's wearing a reasonably light one, then, because not only is she not dying of heatstroke, she's also able to climb up to this infernal roof and wait for this person who stopped the Breach from swallowing up everything.

Yes, that sounds interesting. The Red Jenny knows everything that goes on in the area and this is one connection that she wouldn't dream of missing out on, especially with all the wild rumors flinging about. Some say that this person is a stern faced, olive skinned woman wearing the symbol of the Seekers of Truth on her armor, but a more insistent bunch is saying something else.

This person they call the 'Herald', she isn't even human, elven, or dwarven. She's a legit qunari, and that must be her who's opening the door right now.

And she looks nothing like Sera expected her to look like. Qunari or not, the word 'Herald' brings a very specific image to her mind: regal coat, guards on her sides, skin as unblemished as smooth marble. She didn't expect to see horns that go on forever, marred with scratches and bumps and decorated with a ring over there and a single bronze clasp on the other. She didn't even know that qunari decorated themselves like that.

Under the thick looking coat is a full set of worn heavy armor, a bold choice given the current weather. A long, long sword hangs by her side. If Sera was the one to wield it, she would undoubtedly have to do so with two hands, but how light it seems on the Herald clues her in that she probably needs only one arm to do so.

However, Sera is more interested in her face. There's a lot of annoyance for one face, but perhaps that's only because she must be on fire under that armor, or because Lord Whatshisname is preening about with one of the most obnoxious speeches she's ever heard, and the thief has heard a lot of those. Lines of scars crisscross every surface of the qunari's visible skin, which isn't saying much, considering that only her head is visible. Thick lines, mostly healed ones, it's like a macabre canvas of war. She isn't sure, but that looks like a burn mark on the very edge of her jaw.

A hard-faced warrior woman with sharp cheekbones is at her side, while a very amused seeming dwarf with a crossbow that must have cost a house or two is nearby as well. A bald elf with almost no armor at all stands calm but alert, the staff between his fingers screaming "I'm a mage!".

Now that gives her pause. Rule number one of surviving as long as she has: don't come near mages. Enough waiting around, though, because Lord Whatshisname's prattling is getting on her nerves. The sooner she gets out of this heat, the better. She deftly takes an arrow from her quiver, nocking the projectile on her bow expertly before she finally speaks up.

"Hey, asshole!" She hollers, grinning most proudly when she sees the look on his face. It's the look of someone who's been walking with their noses upturned all their life only to step on dog shit for the first time. "Just say 'what'!"

"What is the-"

And the arrow whirs through the air, hitting right where she wanted it to. The noble sputters as he realizes that it's gone through his mouth in the middle of his inquiry, and then his body goes slack. Sera has got to admit that there was a chance that wasn't going to work that prettily, but it all worked out. Nothing benefits someone like her like ridiculously good luck and skills like that.

"Thanks, I was getting a bit tired of listening to him ramble."

"Blah blah, arrow in my face. Rich tits always try for more than they deserve." She bends down and yanks the arrow out with moderate difficulty. It's a bit bloody, but past experiences tell her to never waste an arrow unless it's snapped in half.

"Nice shot. Clean and quick, unlike listening to him blather on about how small he is."

Another unexpected response. Sera keeps the grin on her face, although she really thought that a qunari with such a snooty title would be less than happy with whatever she does. She slides down the stepladder, eager to find out more about this woman who everyone's talking about.

One thing that the Red Jenny notices as she walks towards her is that the Herald looks much, much bigger in person and her analytical stare is much more intimidating as well. Her hair is whiter than a ghost's face, or what Sera imagines it looks like, anyway. It's not too long, but it's tied back, obviously. No one wants a hair accident during a fight. Stray strands of hair freely frame her face, a few of them sticking to her obsidian skin with sweat. It's been too long since anyone's made a shiver of fear trickle down her spine, but she shrugs it off as always, even though those long horns look like they could disembowel someone with just a shrug of the qunari's shoulders. Talking about her shoulders, Sera is pretty sure they're twice as wide as the wiry elf's.

"Whoa." Sums up her entire reaction.

"Whoa?" The qunari's deeper voice sounds like it can command and conquer an army with just a shout, but now it's just confused. "That's a first."

"Inquisitor," The bronze skinned human interjects, glaring daggers at the thief. "We were to bring him in for interrogation. That," She aims a look of irritation to Sera. "Is no longer an option."

Sera scoffs and considers punching the woman's arm in jest, but she crosses out the possibility of doing that when she sees the look on her face. "Don't even bother, guy's one of the low life nobles. Well, even more low life than the usual. He hasn't even got property or proper guards or whatever, just a son of a cousin of some bloke with deep pockets."

"No ambushes? Now this, I like." Says the dwarf with the crossbow, although he doesn't lower his weapon. "Ever been to Kirkwall at night? If not, don't."

"It does seem like a nice turn of events, if it's true." The bald elf smiles.

"Well, no ambushes sounds right." Sera shrugs. "But his goons are comin' here right now. I stole their breeches."

"You what?" The sour faced woman asks. The Seeker isn't sure she heard her right.

"I. Stole. Their. Breeches. Undies. Panties. Knickers."

"I know what breeches are." Her defined eyebrow twitches with annoyance.

"I think Cassandra here just wants to know why you didn't take their weapons instead." The Herald translates. "It's a question that makes a lot of sense, unless you stole their breeches to impress us. If you did, then color me impressed." She chuckles, wiping a sheen of moisture from her forehead.

"Nah, just wanted to see their faces."

"Herah, don't encourage her." Cassandra frowns deeper than before.

Before anyone can respond to that, a door bangs open. Sera braces herself, another arrow in place faster than most people can blink, prepared to pick them off one by one like annoying flies in the air. "Here they are!" She waits patiently for the first fool to reveal himself, but before she can, something hot and quick flies by her ear, far enough for her to know it won't hit her but near enough for her to still feel the heat as the fiery projectile sails past.

It hits the first one right in the chest as he turns the corner to face the five, knocking him back and exploding powerfully enough to push the rest off their feet and into a nearby pile of barrels.

It must have been that bald elf. He's a mage. But that's not right, he was to her left, this attack came from the other direction. Curiosity killed the cat, but she takes a milisecond to check who the hell did that. She finds her answer with the turn of her head.

The Herald's sword gleams bright under the light of the fire in her other hand. Fire crackles hotly in a myriad of blue, purple and orange above her palm.

She's a mage. The Herald of Andraste is a qunari and a mage, and the battle won't last too long.


	2. A Lot Of Zeroes

Sera knew she wasn't walking into this situation with plain old fighters. The stories were most likely exaggerated, but she got the idea. They're good, but she didn't think they'd be this good. It's obvious from the moment the woman called Cassandra charges without a hint of hesitation, one person against a whole group of the soldiers who aren't busy running off as they try to put the fire on themselves out.

The Red Jenny lands an arrow on two of the men to drop them, just in case, but although it definitely helps, it doesn't really seem like it would help the warrior out that much. Her form is perfect and she blocks or parries any attack that comes her way, shrugging them off like surly High Dragon teaching her young to hunt. One of the men's swings clang hard against her sword and bounces off, giving her ample time to stick her weapon into his chest.

The others aren't staying still, though. Every opening is accompanied by the dwarf's crossbow firing, hitting with pinpoint accuracy, and the elf radiates with a bright teal light as he casts a defensive barrier over them.

An arc of lightning zips from the Herald's hand, splitting into two and then three and four as they travel from man to man, paralyzing each for a split second. The chance doesn't go to waste. They drop one by one, an arrow in the neck there and a well timed counter here, but yet another thing catches Sera's eye.

The Herald, a mage, is going straight to the middle of the battleground. While Cassandra is busy bashing her shield into one of them, the other notices the giant of a qunari approach. He raises his sword more out of fear than tenacity, obvious despite the helmet covering his face. Her forest green eyes don't leave him for a second as she walks calmly but vigilantly to where he is, sword down in what must be the greatest error a warrior can make in a fight.

He lunges, but he doesn't move. A flick of her wrist, a flash of crystal, and his feet are pinned to the ground with ice rooting up his knees. While his mouth gapes open as he looks down at what will be his undoing, he notices her bringing up her sword too late. It goes right through his torso with terrifying ease, like a knife through warm butter, with enough force to knock him off his feet. The freezing ice shatters as the blade runs deep until it can go no further. Then, before he can fall all the way, she pulls it out, completely not bothered by the spray of blood that stains the polished but worn alloy of her armor.

The sword slides back into her sheath. "That was... interesting." Although Herah seems less than happy, the presence of a somewhat puzzled but intrigued look on her damaged face seems to confirm her words.

"My life has certainly become more interesting ever since I ran into you." The bald elf chuckles to himself. "Is nobody hurt?"

"I am fine." Cassandra says, without a falter in her voice.

"Perks of staying behind everyone else is it's really hard for me to end up with a knife in my gut." The dwarf slyly smiles.

"I assume you're this Red Jenny?" Herah's eyes scan her from top to bottom. "You look unhurt. That was impressive. You could give Varric here a run for his money."

"Hey now," Varric feigns being hurt by her words. "You know I wouldn't go down so easily, my tall friend."

"Good, then the betting pool opens tonight."

"You haven't even asked our new friend here if she's willing to participate." Varric gives Sera a questioning look. She knows that gaze. It's the gaze she gets whenever someone's trying to figure out her angle, as if she's not vocal enough about it as it is.

She smirks cockily. "Get ready to go home with your arse hangin' out for everyone to see, got it?"

"Herald." Cassandra reminds, sighing exasperatedly.

"Oh, right." Herah clears her throat awkwardly. "So why did you want us to see this?"

"I need a reason?" She shrugs. "Wanted to see you lot for myself, I guess. Worth it, too. Never seen a bunch of guys get their asses handed to 'em so quick."

Herah waits for a 'just kidding', but it never comes. "So you tipped us off about this because you felt like it. You went through the trouble of spying and infiltrating because you were curious."

"Yeah, and it didn't take much, really." The archer shrugs. "Just a drunkie I met at the bar, took the contract from his back pocket and it just got easier from there. It's how it works, right? Know one thing, you find something else out, then you rob 'em and take their stuff?"

"You _what_?" Cassandra's eyes light up with what the templars would like to call 'righteous fury'.

"Then I give it to people who actually need it, 'kay?" Sera hastily adds, pouting haughtily. "Hey, some assbag with a home bigger than a farm isn't gonna miss a box of missing jewelry or whatever. They've got plenty of shit to grab with them grubby greedy hands." Before the warrior can respond with an argument, she turns her attention to Herah. She looks much, much bigger up close. "Whoa. You're really tall."

A smirk. "I've been told. We're renovating by bedroom door so I can walk in without banging my head on the frame and giving myself a concussion every time I want to take a nap." She squints her eyes with a hint of suspicion. "I... I could've sworn that I've seen you somewhere."

"Nah." Sera dismisses. "I definitely would've noticed if I saw you lot around. Not really easy to miss, you are."

"It's _you_." Cassandra suddenly steps forward, the twist of her scowl more frightening than a high dragon's sneer. "Vandalism, slander, public disturbance, theft, murder."

"Are you talking about us, Seeker?" Varric wryly chuckles. "If we leave out the 'theft' part, then I think we fit the description."

"Shut up, Varric." She glares at him with death in her words. Her fists clench with annoyance at the mention of his name. "Each of these offences have been committed more than once. You are a wanted woman."

Recognition lights up in the Herald's eyes. "The wanted posters from around town. That's you, isn't it? Well, a very badly drawn version of you."

"Yeah, that's me. The drawings are shite, no wonder only the iron lady's figured it out so far." The Red Jenny shrugs nonchalantly.

"And you're not even denying it?" Solas raises an eyebrow. "Intriguing."

"Reminds me of a friend." Varric nods approvingly. "You'd get along well with her."

"Varric." Cassandra points a deadly glare at him again before turning her attention to the qunari. "This woman is a criminal, Herah. You've seen how many of them were posted around."

"And you're gonna believe them?" Sera groans. "Them toady cheese farters sitting in their satin chairs or something like that? Yeah, so I killed some pricks and broke a few windows, stole their stuff and gave it away, whatever. They were _bad_ and they deserved it."

"Well, that's a lot of zeroes for a one-person bounty." Varric observes.

"The guards are working hard to track you down, I'm sure of that." Cassandra keeps her fingers tight over her sword. "Give me one reason we shouldn't turn you in."

"You saw me take down that shitter from all the way up there?" Sera cocks her head to the dead noble on the ground, no different than all the hired swords he paid to die. "What about all the others with arrows sticking out of them?"

One quick survey tells Herah all she needs to know. "Impressive. Not one stray arrow and every single one hits wherever it needs to hit to drop them."

"Yeah, so what do you say?" Sera raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms proudly. "I mean, I wanna get out of here and there's nothin' wrong with having some more firepower, right? Well, arrow power."

"So that's it," Cassandra snorts. "You want to be affiliated with us to escape your char-"

The not-so-distant sound of a door being blown out of it's hinges silences her. Sera can't believe she made the most rookie of mistakes; always escape from the scene as soon as possible. She sighs. "Reinforcements."

* * *

I'm a dinosaur with word processors so please tell me if you find any typos. Thanks lmao.


	3. Poke and Prod

**Family is visiting and I have no laptop access so I'm uploading from my phone! Have a short filler before we progress.**

* * *

"Why are you really here, thief?" Cassandra's guard doesn't go down, even when they're here in a fairly dingy inn room.

"Wanted to see the Herald of Andraste herself." Sera shrugs without a damn, kicking her boots away. They thud against the door before falling a short distance away. "Told you already, it was worth it. Looks like things are gonna get interesting, so why not stick around, right? Better than just gettin' hammered every day. Not using my bow enough."

"The posters say otherwise." The Seeker contradicts.

"A thief who's got so many posters around is either a really bad one or a very exceptional one." Herah crosses her legs as she makes herself comfortable on the chair, an impressive task given how small it is compared to her. "After that display earlier, it's safe to say that you're the latter."

"See?" Sera sticks out her tongue at Cassandra, who replies with a sour frown. "I'll take out pricks from a hundred yards away, and you should know that free help's good."

"Well, the Inquisition's more broke than I was during my first ever game of Wicked Grace..." Varric chuckles.

"That must have been a very bad game for you, Varric." Solas smiles dryly.

"Don't even ask."

They depart the next day towards Haven, the home of the newfound Inquisition. An unobservant thief is a dead one, that's something Sera won't even think of arguing against.

She notices everything from the rattle of a faulty keyhole being opened to the hitch of someone's breath when they're aroused from sleep in the middle of the night, so it's only natural that she sees the subtle signs that most wouldn't even think of taking notes on.

The dark skinned qunari blinks too long during the long carriage ride back to Haven, even during the first few minutes. Drifting off so early? She didn't get a lot of sleep last night, it seems. Sera takes a note to look into whether this is a sleeping issue or not, she knows there's probably no reason to but in her line of work, there's no such thing as being too careful.

Her lips are sealed tight a lot of the time. A lot of tension in her head, perhaps? Not unimaginable, given what she's heard about the Inquisition's recent activities. Even when she drifts off to sleep for a few short intervals during their trips, her frighteningly large hands always stay on her sword. A high degree of carefulness is a good trait to have.

"You stare at me quite a lot." Herah observes, during one of their first pit stops for the day. Haven is waiting. It won't be long before they arrive.

Sera stretches her stiff limbs and takes in a deep breath. It's nice to have a whiff of fresh air after being crammed in that stuffy carriage all night. "Yeah, so? No one's stoppin' me."

"I was just wondering if anyone drew anything on my face while I was sleeping, but apparently not." She replies. Five minutes before they leave. She'd better take advantage of this time to enjoy not being stuffed into that infernal small box filled with too many people. She rubs her painful neck, a part of her that will undoubtedly hurt for a while. "I just checked."

It's probably not a good idea to tell her that keeping an eye on a qunari mage with a really long sword is a wise idea. "Hey, I've always liked them tall." But maybe with a lot less magic.

Those shoulders, though, she wonders what they look like under that armor. Before her mind can wander too far, she notices a small sound coming from the back of the Herald's throat as she sheepishly holds back a grin.

She's embarrassed. Interesting.

"I... I see." Herah responds after a few moments, clearing her throat. The pregnant pause that follows clearly illustrates her lack of words.

Teasing has always been a favorite pastime of Sera's, but the inhospitable glare Cassandra is pointing right at her stops her right there. Reluctantly, she decides to follow through later. She has an idea of why the olive skinned woman is so perpetually displeased, but she'll have to confirm later.

"Do not heed that criminal's sweet words, Herald." Cassandra later says, when said thief is fast asleep under the shade of a tall tree. The horses are gulping down water from a nearby stream, and Solas is picking at some plant while Varric is busying himself with his precious crossbow.

"Sorry?" The qunari asks, not sure if she heard that right.

"Do you like women, Herah?" The question is short and concise.

Her cheeks flare up a little. "Well, yes. Why do you ask?"

"Because then you know you must keep her far." The warrior says without remorse. "She saw your reaction and I know how these rogues function. They prod for weaknesses and they will always use it."

The mage chuckles. Ah, so that's why. "You worry too much, Cassandra." She doesn't trust easily, that much the Seeker should have known.

"I do not underestimate you, of course, but your newfound title will draw many to you." Cassandra quickly adds. "For better and for worse."

"Yeah, but your pockets don't look too deep for now, yeah?" One of Sera's eyes open. Time to resume her poking around. "No point in sleepin' with you for money if you haven't got any to give, you feel me? Not like I can't just nab some goon's purse if I need a quick jingle in the pockets, anyway."

"You sneak." Cassandra glowers again.

"You're loud. I would've woken up anyway."

"We are low on agents, but you will not resort to petty theft when you are wearing the Inquisition's colors." Cassandra commands authoritatively.

"Well, not if it's going to be our ass on the line." Herah adds. "If you're gonna give it to whoever's got it coming and get us some more coin, then I'll go break some doors for you."

"Hah!" Varric laughs. "I knew I had a good feeling about you."

Cassandra sighs, wishing she could be as oblivious as Solas, who's busy petting one of the horses.

"Yeah, I'll tell you if I need a door kicked down. You look like you can bring down really big ones." She winks, the gears turning in her head. If the Herald wasn't joking, then she'll be able to undertake some really ambitious schemes. The qunari will have to step a lot lighter, though.

"Ugh." Cassandra wrinkles her nose.

A few days into their trip, Sera has already figured out the Herald's habits. She suspected it before, but sleeping problems are definitely part of her nights. Frequent wakings at random intervals, jumping every time some forest animal makes a sound? No wonder there's a barely noticeable frown that's hanged on her face during the day during all times.

Sera can't stop thinking about that reaction from a few days before, though. She had expected to be brushed off because duh, Herah looks too hard for any physical contact that doesn't involve fighting. It's not just how she looks, but how she talks and moves and everything else.

Which is why that little spot of nervousness jut bugs the Red Jenny like nothing else. People are like puzzles. If your figure out what makes someone tick, you'll get them to do anything, and Sera can't wait to find it.


	4. Inevitability

The hilt of Cassandra's sword is dangerously close to Herah's jaw. It feels like a damn volcano inside her armor and her limbs feel like there are rocks tied to them. Her muscles pull uncomfortably as she tries to lean away to avoid getting clocked right where it hurts, but by the looks of it, she's going to have a bad bruise tomorrow morning.

That is, until the Seeker huffs and stops her assault mid-air and buries her blade in the ground.

"I fucked up, huh?" Herah breathes harshly, scratching the back of her head. Sweat drips into her eyes and half of her hair's escaped from the messy ponytail she did a mere ten minutes before.

"The outcome would have been much more even if you had used your magic." Cassandra says, with no intention of sugar-coating. As usual, the Nevarran says it like it is. "I think lighter armor would suit you."

The qunari's chest beats a little faster. "I see."

"What you're wearing right now has too much unnecessary weight. I can tell that you can move a lot faster if you didn't have to sustain it." She thoughtfully adds. "Come to think of it, this is the first time I've seen a qunari in a full set of heavy armor."

Sera's just about to drift off to sleep, no longer feeling how scratchy the bark of the tree she's lying against it, until she hears a hitch in Herah's voice.

"Yes." The qunari chokes. "It's not a common sight."

"If I'm not mistaken, the war paint you use is more efficient for you. It offers similar protection while not weighing you down."

"It does offer protection, but it's not as effective as actual armor." Herah quickly deflects.

"You can definitely best many warriors, but the quicker ones will be a problem."

Now this, Sera is interested in. The Herald really doesn't seem like someone who would sacrifice an edge in battle for something petty like aesthetics. She listens a bit closer, but she hears nothing but Herah's ragged breaths.

"I'll figure it out." The Herald finally replies, after a period of silence that's just a tad bit too long. "But in the meantime, I have to ask you to not discuss this anymore."

The somber tone in the qunari's voice and the dark look in her eyes would scare the average person, but Cassandra Pentaghast is no average person. She just nods calmly, albeit after raising a sharp eyebrow at the mage's response. "Very well, then. I will trust you to make that judgment."

It's Herah's turn to be surprised. "That was quick."

"I've mentioned it before. Leliana has gathered a frightening amount of information on you. I've heard of what you are capable of and I have no reason whatsoever of doubting that you will do as you say." She explains briefly.

"How much information is that, exactly?" Herah narrows her eyes.

"That is a question that you should ask our spymaster." Cassandra picks up her sword and sheathes it before she turns around to take her leave. A few steps into her exit, she stops mid-stride. "I know of your exploits. You have not survived for this long by being foolish." And then she doesn't look back.

The frown that grows on Herah's face is noticable enough for Sera to see, even from her distance. The moment the former Right Hand of the Divine is out of sight, the towering mage crumbles to the ground on her backside. Her frighteningly long sword lies neglected beside her. Sweat glides down her skin like a river and drips down her chin and her cheeks are flushed all the way to her pointed ears.

"Motherfucker." She pants as she catches her breath.

Sera giggles at the sight as she makes her way to the Herald. Cassandra did give her quite the thrashing. "Nice show you put on, Herald of Andraste." She says the title with a hint of amusement.

"It's nice to know that seeing me getting my ass handed to me gives you pleasure." Herah wryly replies. "I hope this doesn't mean you'll let me get sucker punched in a real fight."

"Nah," Sera snorts proudly. "The day I miss a mark's the day I turn myself in to the guards. And that ain't gonna happen."

"So murder, arson, thievery..." The qunari makes a mental list of everything she can imagine the elf doing. "Yep, that'll get you some years behind bars."

"Yeah, if they don't kill me first." Sera sticks out her tongue and makes a face. "Or worse."

"Good point." She nods, beads of moisture still dripping down.

"Uh, you're looking like you're gonna melt there." The thief points out when she sees how red the qunari's face is. "Sure you don't wanna take it off?"

The Herald smiles politely. "I'm good." No she's not. She feels like she's going to pass out any time.

"Fine, then, whatever you-" A small detail catches her keen eye. She hardly noticed it because the qunari's armor is just so damn bulky, but now that she has, it's hard to unsee. "Hey, what's that around your wrists?"

Herah's breathing stops faster than a thoroughbred Fereldan stallion and she swallows nervously, unable to stop the elf from taking a closer look. Sera has to do a double take to confirm what she's seeing; thick cuffs with sharp protrusions that look suspiciously like chains that were broken off.

Silence.

Another double take.

Yep, she shouldn't have pointed it out. "Fuck."

"I'm going to wash up." Herah stands up a little too quickly, wobbling a bit. Without even waiting for a response, she walks away as quickly as she can. That's quite something, given her long legs and impressive height. "See you later."

The mage counts until three to make sure Sera's not going to try and stop her. Good, she thinks, when she makes sure that's not happening, because her head feels like it's high up in the clouds and her vision is starting to blur. She needs to take it off, all of it, before she passes out.

Fucking hell, too hot. Way too hot. She doesn't even have enough strength left to slam the door behind her when she enters her room. Her armor clangs to the ground piece by piece, her underclothes soaked. When the last piece falls off, it feels like a boulder has just rolled off her back.

Cassandra was partly right. She sure didn't survive from being foolish, but she feels like that word suits her quite well. She came dangerously close to overheating today, and that was just a practice session. She fared well against run of the mill bandits and mercenaries, but demons are a whole other deal.

She sits down in the middle of her floor without thought, looking at the pieces of protective gear scattered around. What a shame it is that she can't just toss the cuffs around her wrists off, the ones that were slapped on her years ago.


End file.
